


All Things Remembered

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Ending, Amnesia, Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he remembered he thought it prudent not to tell. He was being kissed, touched all over by strong hands. Warning for implied minor character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 Alternate Ending.

1.  
He awoke in a hospital in Columbia. The pretty dark skinned nurse who came to his side told him so in Spanish, of which he understood only the most common words. He was from the US, they told him in English once he started speaking, but he’d been found with the local currency and a local ID on his person.

He had no next of kin listed in the area and the apartment he rented in the city had no phone.

His physician, Dr. Morillo, said that during the month he’d been in a coma he’d sent a nurse over to the apartment address on his ID. The landlord said that no one had rented from him under the name on the ID, but in the same apartment there had been a kind American who’d put down enough money for an entire year’s rent so that it would remain vacant. Then, the man left never having spent a night.

The landlord only remembered the man’s first name: Michael.

2.

The nurses were the ones who started calling him the mysterious man’s name.

“You can’t remember your name can you?” Alandra, the day nurse, asked him a few days after he’d woken. He was still tired but he’d thought hard then, trying to remember something, anything of his past.

The first thing he remembered he thought it prudent not to tell. He was being kissed, touched all over by strong hands. The face was blurry and indistinct, but when he thought about the mouth and those hands on him with the surrounding smell of crisp aftershave he knew he was on the cusp of remembering.

For instance, he was certain the hands belonged to a man. He could _taste_ the man’s lips, _feel_ his rough hands. Hence, why he thought it would be best to keep that first memory quiet.

Then, he remembered a flash of pain, probably from the bullet that fractured his skull just over his left eyebrow. He’d been told by the doctors, nurses, and seemingly anyone else who’d been told of his injury that his living was a miracle.

And his ability to talk and, with some therapy, walk, well, the oldest nurse on the ward thought that Michael, the name of an Archangel, was more than apt. There was no changing their minds after that.

It only got worse after they showed him the tattoos. When he first awoke he was too weak to even lift a limb, but after gaining some strength they’d been the first things he’d noticed. A mural of an angel battling a demon covered his torso and his arms were inked with strange words and symbols. The nurses immediately identified the angel on his chest as Michael.

Alandra had said they were beautiful, alarming, but a work of art none the less. Her brother owned a parlor.

He’d stared at himself in the mirror for long minutes after she left and decided that they were hideous. He felt like he was covered in chains.

He remembered only one other thing that he’d kept from the doctors and policía alike. There was a woman with brown hair and kind eyes. The name Sara came with the image every time he thought of her, along with a wave of sadness that he thought would succeed where the bullet had failed. The first time the memory hit him he’d cried himself sick and vowed that he wouldn’t ask anyone to seek her out. He was pretty sure she was dead anyway.

3.

Michael was pegged from the start as some sort of gang member or drug dealer. He was covered in tattoos, two toes on his left foot had been cut off, he had a wicked scar from a suspicious burn on his back, and been shot in the head.

Faced with the gruesome evidence, he really couldn’t argue in opposition. He had no memory after all. But he certainly didn’t _feel_ like a bad guy and the nurses and doctors around him didn’t seem to see him as a threat either.

They’d even protected him from the policía, reminding them that he was a victim when they attempted to remove him from the hospital for interrogation into his assault.

But then came his only visitor. At the end of Michael’s first week awake, he was still too weak to do more than sit up, but Alandra came with a man named Alex beside her. He felt wary of the man from the first moment Michael saw him.

Wearing a white linen suit with a white fedora in his hand, Alex didn’t look like the kind of man who would be visiting someone like Michael. Alandra figured since they were both American and white they would be acquaintances, but even though Michael felt like he knew Alex, he also got the feeling that he didn’t want to know him. He didn’t trust his easy smile and the small light in the man’s eye when he saw the bandage around Michael’s forehead.

“You are a seriously lucky man, Michael,” Alex said immediately. Alandra made a small noise next to him.

“That is your name, señor!”

Alex chuckled unkindly. A chill went down Michael’s spine. “Wait, you don’t even remember your name?”

“Then let me fill you in, señora,” Alex addressed the nurse. “This is Michael Scofield. Escape artist extraordinaire. It’s kinda like a parlor trick by now, isn’t it, Mike? Only you didn’t plan for this one.”

Alandra looked confused and since Michael felt the same way he quietly asked her to leave them. He knew Alex was no friend. His nurse seemed concerned but left quickly.

Michael tried to sit up, guard himself. “Who are you really?”

Alex strolled around the small hospital room and looked out the window. “As usual, I’m the man sent to kill you. Look, we’ve played this game before and since I have you at a serious disadvantage I’ll do you a favor. I work directly for The Company now. I know everything I wanted to know about them before, everything _we_ wanted to know about them, and I’ve realized that they can get me what I want. And I’m willing to pay their price.”

Michael was still stuck on the first part. “You were sent to kill me?”

“It’s not the first time, don’t take it personally.” Alex shrugged. “I was sent to kill Lincoln too.”

Michael blinked. He knew that name, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know _how_ he knew that name. But at the moment he had to focus.

“So why am I still alive?”

Alex smiled to himself. He seemed a tad deranged to Michael, but then Alex was an assassin. “Let’s call this my act of contrition since I’ve sold my soul.”

He approached the bed with his hand in his jacket pocket and Michael almost fell backwards off the bed. Alex looked amused.

“This is the only time I’ve seen you afraid. Funny, I thought I would enjoy it more.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and forced his body to still. “Trying to kill me in a hospital would be a bit pretentious don’t you think?”

Alex’s smile waned. He took his hand out of his pocket and extended the piece of paper between his fingers.

“This is your brother’s number. He’s been looking for you and if he’s not careful he and your nephew are going to end up the way you should have. You call him, get him to come for you down here, and you disappear with your dysfunctional family before the people I work for figure out that you’re still alive. This is the last warning from me, Michael. I suggest you heed it or the next time you see me, you won’t have the chance to see the bullet coming.”

Alex turned to leave but Michael said his name, asked him to stop. “What did I do to this Company? Why do they want me dead?”

His back to Michael, Alex said, “Your father, who is dead so don’t ask, made you special with the Company’s help. They don’t want your skill out there with people and you’ve lost your usefulness. You don’t know anything now but once, not long ago, you knew too much. Disappear and to them you’ve never existed.”

Then he left and Michael was more confused than ever. But he had a name and, with the paper in his hand, he had a brother.

4.

His brother, who happened to be named Lincoln, and his nephew were on a plane within the hour. When they arrived Michael expected some huge revelation, a rush of memories that would put everything to rights.

Instead, there were small flashes, only seconds long. He hugged LJ who was much older than he expected and got a flash of when the boy was young enough to crawl. He looked at Lincoln and received a wave of comfort.

Lincoln had apparently made the mistake of speaking with the nurses before he saw Michael and was visibly upset at the large bandage around his head. The big man, who Michael was just happy to have some connection with, wouldn’t even touch him beyond a brief and awkward handshake.

“You’ve been gone for almost six months, Michael.” Lincoln was staring at him from across the room. LJ sat next to him and took Michael’s hand with a glare at his father.

“Dad, I don’t think he needs to hear this right now.”

Michael spoke up. “No, please. I’m sorry I was missing, that I worried you, but I need to know everything. Where have I been?”

His brother looked apologetic. “We don’t know. The last time I spoke with you was three months ago. You said you were in Venezuela. We were looking for you there.” Lincoln slapped own his knee. “Can't believe were looking in the wrong country!”

“Calm down. We’ve found him now.” LJ smirked.

Michael tried to smile back but couldn’t get beyond his confusion, his fear. What had he been doing? Did it have anything to do with Sara, the dead woman?

“How did you find us?” Lincoln asked, bringing Michael back to the conversation at hand.

Once Michael told them about Alex, they were both silent for a while. Michael could see his brother shaking with anger at the very mention of Alex’s name. He was glad to see that his first impressions were right.

“I hate to say this,” LJ spoke softly. “But he’s right. We need to disappear. It’s what you wanted anyway, Dad.”

Lincoln shook his head. “It’s all up to Michael now. You need to recover, get your memories back and then you can tell us what you want to do. But we’re not separating again. Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.”

Lincoln gave him a stare so intense Michael felt uncomfortable and looked away.

He didn’t know what to say. Michael hardly knew who _he_ was. Luckily, Dr. Morillo saved him the trouble by knocking and asking to speak with Lincoln.

LJ sighed as his father left. “He’s been worried sick. I’ve never seen him like that. He might not show it but he’s ecstatic we’ve found you.”

“I’m sure he’d be happier if had my memory,” Michael tried to joke.

LJ indulged him with a smile. “I think we’d all be happier. But one miracle at a time.”

5.

One week later and Michael was getting some memories back. He’d begun physical therapy at the hospital and his brother and nephew were there everyday to keep him company, fill in the spots that were still fuzzy even when it was obvious that there was a lot that Lincoln didn’t want to mention.

Fox River; Sona; Most of the last year could be brought back with a simple prompt, but the last few weeks before he was shot were a complete blank. Dr. Morillo conjectured that those memories might never come back. Michael wondered if maybe that was for the best.

Remembering Sara was one of the hardest parts. LJ was the biggest help, telling him of how she fought in captivity, how close Lincoln was to finding her. He reminded Michael that Sara didn’t die in vain and he understood his former passion for revenge, for why he went crusading six months ago. But his hatred had left with the rest of his memories and he saw no reason to pursue people like Alex or Gretchen or Whistler anymore. Not when the cost was his family.

By the end of the second week, Michael could walk relatively well. Again, the nurses called it a miracle but Lincoln declared that for Michael it was rather normal; He’d always been a quick learner.

The time flew by with every milestone met. After walking, there was re-building strength, then there was scaling back the bandages until one month almost to the day he’d awoke, they were removing the final head wrap.

“Can hardly tell you were shot,” Lincoln piped up as Michael prodded the red scar dividing his left eyebrow with his fingertips.

“Forgot how bad a liar you are,” Michael replied with a sigh. He’d been remembering a lot about Lincoln and LJ as well. Their proximity kept them fresh in his mind.

It was difficult dealing with Lincoln. He was still keeping his distance as if he were afraid that Michael would turn away from the new tainted memories that were coming everyday but LJ was a buffer, even if the boy didn’t want to be.

They gave Michael the all-clear to leave the hospital soon after the reveal. There was little ceremony when he left. He said goodbye to the nurses and doctors who’d saved his life and departed with the clothes on his back and the fake ID that Alandra had slipped into his pocket.

Michael finally asked where they were going when they stopped at the dock.

“Anywhere,” Lincoln answered. “Far away from here.”

“But what about-,”

“Money?” LJ shrugged and hopped out of the cab.

Lincoln gave Michael a quick look. “Don’t worry about that. We’re covered.”

His brother moved to get out of the car and Michael pulled him back with a hand on his arm. It was the first deliberate touch they’d shared and Michael felt a strange zap, like electricity, at the contact. He could tell Lincoln had felt it too from his brief startle.

“How are we covered?”

“Wrongful imprisonment. Someone filed on my behalf back home and sent me a check four months ago. Government paid up pretty quick.”

Michael was stunned. “I guess they’re not all bad.” He chuckled, happier to see Lincoln crack a rare grin. “How much was awarded?”

Lincoln’s grin grew wider. “Come on, the boat’s ready to go.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Michael gaped.

“Maybe someday,” Lincoln teased, stepping out onto the dock.

6.

For three days, Michael’s new home was a passenger ship. He was alone more than he’d been in two weeks with LJ easily making friends with some other teenagers on board and Lincoln mysteriously going missing whenever Michael was trying to find him.

He started to wonder if Lincoln really was angrier with him than he’d originally let on. Lincoln had warned him away from going after Sara’s killers, but at the same time, he’d refused to leave Sofia alone after she’d been shot.

And still, Michael couldn’t find a reason for the unease he felt almost every time he was around the older man. With nothing else to worry about, it was driving him crazy.

It all came to a head the night before they made it to their destination. Michael was out on deck, as he had been everyday. The cool sea air was blowing over the mug of coffee he had between his hands when Lincoln came up beside him.

He rested his elbows on the ship’s wooden railing. Michael watched him out of the corner of his eye. Lincoln looked tired despite the fact that he’d spent nearly every moment on board in his cabin.

“I never thought we’d be on a ship again. And as free men, no less.”

Michael grinned. “You’re the free man. I’m just lucky.” He took a sip of hot coffee, swallowing hard at the reminder of Alex’s words to him weeks ago.

Lincoln gave him a sharp look. “Have to ruin the moment don’t you?”

Michael shrugged, not feeling too bad. He’d been annoyed for most of the trip. They both fell silent, the roar of the sea making all the noise Michael wished he could make. Just standing next Lincoln, silent and stiff-shouldered, made him want to scream.

Michael was thinking so hard that he almost missed when Lincoln finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Lincoln stared out at the dark sea. “I don’t mean for this to be weird between us but I was…”

His brother went quiet and Michael nearly fell over the rail trailing after his pause. “You were what?”

Lincoln seemed to steel himself when he turned to look at him. His eyes, to put it simply, were full of pain and fear. Michael was so alarmed he took a step back.

“I was fucking terrified Michael! When you said that you’d been shot I hadn’t expected what I saw when I walked into that room. I hadn’t expected so much damage, your memories.”

Lincoln’s eyes were glassy; something Michael couldn’t remember ever seeing. He was scared _for_ his brother and did the first thing that came to mind. Michael put down his coffee and hugged him.

Lincoln was stiff for a moment, then with a grunt, relaxed into Michael’s embrace. His arms wrapped around Michael’s waist and pulled him in tight.

Michael felt surrounded by a warmth and safety he hadn’t experienced in what seemed like years.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Lincoln whispered in his ear.

Michael blinked back his own sudden tears. “Don’t be, Linc. It was my choice to leave. I- I made a mistake.”

It was hard for Michael to admit because he’d been so certain at the time. But his lost memories, his sensitive scar, said that looking for revenge had nearly been fatal. Now everything he’d learned about The Company was lost, possibly forever.

Lincoln’s arms tightened. “I let you go because I would have done the same thing.”

“That’s in the past." Michael took a deep breath of sea air and the crisp scent of his brother. “I think we’re safe.”

Lincoln pulled back and cupped Michael’s face, looking hard to see if he believed what he’d said. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. “I hope so.”

Michael was smiling, thinking that everything finally felt right, when Lincoln kissed him. The pressure on his mouth was so slight that it took Michael a second to react before he gasped and pulled away.

Lincoln’s eyes were huge, clearly horrified at what he’d done. He apologized so quickly that Michael wondered if his brother had been replaced with someone else.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you’d remembered, but I’ve wanted to kiss you so much.”

Michael could hardly think, hardly breathe. There was nothing, no signs, during the past two weeks that pointed to _this_ as the origin of all of Lincoln’s discomfort. In fact, Michael figured him angry rather than waiting for a forbidden touch.

Sure, he thought, he may have lost his memory, but he would have remembered something like that, wouldn’t he?

The wind blew over the bow of the ship and pushed a lungful of Lincoln’s aftershave in his direction. And Michael suddenly felt like the air had been sucked from his chest.

He immediately thought of the hospital in Columbia and what he’d called his ‘first’ memory: Crisp citrus surrounding him, strong hands holding him tight and safe, and kisses that left him breathless, aching.

Michael licked his lips, met Lincoln’s fearful stare, and wondered how he could have ever forgotten.

END


End file.
